The Horror In Tokyo
by The Black Doll
Summary: The Clangers vs Godzilla and friends vs Cthulhu. What more needs to be said? Oh yes: it's funny.


Major Kinosawa had what was generally seen within the Defence Force as being a cushy job. Sure, every now and then some giant monster crawled up from the sea, or flew in from some remote part of Borneo, or, in extreme cases, was let loose by space aliens intent on world conquest, and then set about trampling all over the down-town district, but this only happened every now and then, and by now the people of Tokyo were used to, almost accustomed to, the occasional havoc wreaked by these upsets, and knew how to work around it, so being in charge the Defence Force's 'Protecting Tokyo from Big Bad Monsters' division was scarcely onerous. Every couple of weeks Godzilla or Mothra or Megaguirus would turn up and flatten a few blocks, while the populace took to the hills and the 'Protecting Tokyo from Big Bad Monsters' division got to practice shooting at very large and mostly immobile objects that pay no attention to them. Then after the monster had got bored, or done whatever it was it had intended to, the people would come back, knock up a few shanties and everybody would be happy again until the next time.

Thus it was that as the Major sat in his office, with his feet on the desk, perusing the latest issue of 'Bombs, Bullets and Bosoms', he was not overly concerned when the door burst open and a subordinate rushed in and said,

'Esteemed Major, it is urgent, we need your attention immediately!' Major Kinosawa didn't even look up from the picture of a bikini-clad young woman firing a rocket-propelled-grenade at a stranded whale. He just said, in a rather tired voice,

'So which one is it now? Ghidorah? Megalon? Mechagodzilla? Regardless, surely you know what to do? Women and children first and then start shooting at the big bugger. All as usual. I ask you, subordinates these days.' And he would have turned the page had not the subordinate said,

'But esteemed Major, it is not all as usual. For a start, it isn't one monster: it's all of them. And they aren't trampling. They seem to be waiting for something, sir. They seem – fearful.'

'Do not talk rot,' said the Major, 'What have these monsters to fear, if even the might of the defence force cannot halt them? Maybe they are having a convention of some kind. So what. We know what to do about monsters. So just go away and only come back if you have something – what the hell was that?'

That was the sound of music, as if made by a gargantuan calliope, followed by a huge thud that made the building shake to its paper foundations and then, after a moment's stillness a shrill, hellish piping ripped the air. Major Kinosawa and the subordinate looked at one another with wild surmise, and then together rushed from the office, leaving Miss January and her favourite bazooka sadly unattended to.

When they got outside they saw all the monsters they knew and, well not loved, but had at least grown accustomed to, grouped in a circle around a – thing. It was enormous, easily some two hundred metres tall, and pink, looking like a giant mouse standing upright on its hind legs. It had huge, black shiny eyes and two tall ears, between which was brownish hair. It wore what looked like armour beaten from metal sheets. And it just stood there, as if waiting, unmoving except for when it lifted its head and let forth once more that piping call.

Then Gigan, who had always been impetuous, made his move, running toward the pink thing, ready to attack. The thing did not use radioactive breath, or fire, or lasers in its eyes. It simply stood aside, stuck out one foot and, when Gigan tripped and fell, trod on him, crushing him into nothingness. Then it piped once more, whether to say 'Good riddance', or 'Come on you cowards', who can say. And thus battle was joined. And as describing such a battle in full would be very tedious, as well as difficult in what is, after all, a non-visual medium, let us just take it as read that Japan's home-grown monsters were weighed in the balance and found wanting, while the pink thing rose triumphant over all of them, all the while continuing that hellish piping, like the music of a thousand mad flautists.

Let it not be thought that Major Kinosawa had been doing nothing all this while. He had carried out the traditional measures of ordering an evacuation and getting his men to start shooting indiscriminately at whichever monster happened to be nearest, which, as Japan's finest were progressively squished, squashed, thrown into the sea, eaten, and hurled into the endless wastes of outer space, inevitably meant that they were firing at the pink thing. Which, in traditional fashion, pain no attention. Let it also not be thought that the Major was complacent in the face of a new threat to Tokyo's structural integrity. While this had been going on, he had been on the telephone to the University to see if their department of Big Monster Studies could give any insight into this fearsome new adversary. He had described the pink thing, and its strange piping, in great detail, and now they had done their thing and they had an answer for him. As it was not necessarily an answer he was going to like, the Professor who held the chair of Big Monster Studies had braved the carnage to bring the news in person. The Major greeted him politely, as befitted one of his rank:

'So, esteemed Professor, I hear you have some information about this,' he pointed at the monstrous thing which once more boomed forth its eerie cry.

'Yes Major, I do,' said the Professor. 'I have found a reference to creatures just like this in an ancient series of British documentary films. These films described the life of a family group of these creatures that lived, it seemed, on a distant planet. They were most strange creatures, subsisting on soup and communicating by this whistling that you hear now.'

'Did you learn how they can be destroyed?'

'Unfortunately not. As they can apparently survive even in the vacuum of space, they are clearly most hardy. Also, it would not be wise to upset them, as they have fearsome allies: gigantic dragons, and huge metal birds, of such a size as to make even them seem small.' The Major did not know what to think. Dragons? Metal birds? Even more of the huge pink things? Had the Professor gone off his head? And if, however comforting that hypothesis might be, it turned out that it was flawed, and he was, in fact, sane, how could the Major beat such a beast? The Professor continued,

'As for why they are here, well, the films did show that the beasts intended to visit Earth. But it gave the impression that they were small and friendly, not monstrous as we now know them to be.'

'So what can I do?' asked the Major, pleading, as it were, for any advice on how he was to manage a monster who had converted even the ferocious, and previously unbeatable, Godzilla into a kind of puree. The Professor adjusted his glasses and said,

'My advice to you, Major, is to choose your God and pray.' At which apposite point a subordinate came up and said,

'Esteemed Professor, esteemed Major, this humble one fears to interrupt your so-worthy discussions, but an esteemed religious leader wishes to speak with you.' The Major passed a hand in front of his brow. He had to worry about giant pink things that spoke in the voice of ten-thousand penny whistles, and he was assailed by religionists. Still, community liaison was a key part of his job, so, complain though he might, it must be done.

'What is it this time?' he asked. 'The League for the Protection of Frighteningly Dangerous Monsters again?'

'No, sir, they call themselves the 'Church of ever recrudescent R'lyeh'.'

'The What? Oh, show them in.' The Professor had looked startled on hearing the mysterious word 'R'lyeh', which had passed the Major by as being just more pseudo-religious nonsense, and looked as if about to speak, but, before he could do so, a man, wearing rather dubious-looking robes, was ushered in and so the Major, simulating a deference he didn't feel, said, 'Esteemed sir, what can I do for you?'

'That thing is blasphemy!' raved the man, pointing at the pink thing, which was currently, or so it seemed, eating the Diet building. The major spoke soothingly:

'Yes sir, well, that may well be true, but unfortunately the Professor here tells me that nothing we can do to make it go away, so we'll just have to come to terms with it, and learn to live with it like we learned to live with all the other monsters it's just annihilated. You know: sign a peace treaty, agree to let it flatten the odd suburb every now and then, that sort of thing.'

'Well, if you cannot destroy it,' said the man, who now appeared to be foaming at the mouth, 'I can.' And then he screamed: 'Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!'

And before the Major could say 'What?' and the Professor, who had turned terribly pale ever since the concept of 'R'lyeh' had entered into the conversation, could say 'Don't utter those hellish words!' there came a roar, as of a thousand voices shouting, and now there were two monsters: the pink thing and a huge green monstrosity, with a massively tentacled head, like a gigantic squid that had learned to stand on legs and walk. One tentacle shot out and grabbed the religious maniac, who, with a final cry of,

'I die in the service of my God!' was sucked into the green thing's mouth and seen no more.

The two monsters faced one another, while the Defence Force continued to fire indiscriminately at them and anything else they could hit. Then the pink thing raised its huge snout and uttered a long cry that almost sounded like words, as if it were saying 'Tekeli-li' over and over, but in a hellish, piping whistle, which, to the horror of the Major and the Professor, received a reply, coming from the direction of the sea. And, indeed, a huge, seemingly formless, for it changed its shape from moment to moment, thing rose from the sea and walked, slithered, rolled towards the two monsters, which stood in silence, each waiting for the other to move. But there was no need to move, for now the new thing formed itself into a giant ball and, with immense speed, rolled towards the green thing, like a bowling ball making for the pins. The green thing made as if to escape, but it was huge and ungainly, and the ball was too fast for it. With an enormous 'splat', which flung evil-smelling green goo over everything in that part of Tokyo, including the Defence Forces, the Professor and Major Kinosawa, it was flattened, leaving the ball free to roll on and demolish the Imperial Palace.

The Major was somewhat hysterical,

'The Emperor. We didn't evacuate the Emperor. And now he's dead. How will Japan survive?'

'Fear not,' said the Professor in deathly tones. 'If I am right, what we have just seen is the end of emperors and kings and presidents. That green monster was dread Cthulhu, who sleeps, or rather slept, in R'lyeh: the leader of the fell Elder Gods, and master of evil. Like this new terror, he came down out of space, and he ruled the world in elder times, before the civilisations of man were even thought of. Men of evil have worshipped him throughout the millennia, his cult, like him, undying. And yet he was destroyed, easily, by this pink – thing – and its acolyte. Do not mourn your emperor, but tell your men to cease firing on your new master.'

The pink thing piped on.


End file.
